Battling the Baptist Granny

Today, I visited with Granny Grump. She is a cantankerous 84-year old woman who wields her walking cane as a deadly weapon and uses the pet-name “lil’ turd” for everyone she knows. Her hobbies include watching game shows and cursing at the contestants or contacting all of the attorneys listed in the yellow pages to “see `bout” writing one or more of her family members out of her will.
Granny’s disposition was more sour than usual.
The problem is, due to her failing health, she requires constant supervision. She has made no secret of the fact that she doesn’t appreciate the company and would do nearly anything to rid herself of it, including but not limited to offering her granddaughter-in-law $100 to shoot her own children with a B.B. gun if they step a foot on her front porch. As if I’d shoot my in-laws for a $100… I couldn’t do something like that for less than $200.
Today, as soon as I darkened the door, she didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.”Oh, it’s you,” she said then called me by her pet name. Her tone let me know up-front and quick-like I was an unwanted guest. “You aren’t feelin’ up to visitors?” I asked.
“No, I ain’t,” she announced heartily, then proceeded to explain how she hasn’t been able to scratch her own bottom or straighten her bloomers without one of the kids running in to check and see if she’d fallen and broken a hip. Granny then announced that she’d rather break both her hips and an arm than walk around with wadded bloomers.
After determining the climate of Granny Grump’s mood, I settled on the sofa beyond reach of her cane. While she spewed at the wheel-spinners and price-guessers, I formulated a question that was sure to tie her wadded bloomers in a nice cotton knot.
“Granny, I’ve got a question.”
“Go `head,” she urged. The opportunity to share her endless store of self-acclaimed wisdom always dulls Granny’s grouchiness and bolsters her spirits.
“If God is the Father of all, then how come it is that He lets some of His children run out of control and be disobedient?”
To my surprise, Granny just shrugged and said, “Ah, that’s how divorces work.”
According to Granny, God divorced himself from Satan long ago. Since that time, Satan has been the custodial parent of God’s children. He don’t allow regular visitation to God’s house, therefore God has little influence over his own children anymore.
My mouth dropped open. How could such a ridiculous answer make sense?
“Yep,” Granny continued, “Satan got soul custody of most of ye, and what ones of you the Devil didn’t take, pure-ass stupidity claimed.”
I shook my head, “If I didn’t know better, Granny, I’d think you just insulted me.”
“See, like I said, pure-ass stupidity,” Granny proclaimed and settled back in her chair for her nap.


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